The Whispered Truth
by SunnyStorms
Summary: "She'd been certain then that there was nothing to fear. They could have physical intimacy without any sordid emotional baggage attached. This was Draco *Malfoy*, after all. He would never demand or even want what she couldn't, wouldn't give. No expectations. No promises. No chances of anyone getting hurt...Things were so much better that way."
1. Chapter 1

**- Chapter 1 -**

The entry door loomed over Ginny, its black surface gleaming. She grimaced at its gold and diamond trimmings before knocking. No matter how many times she'd seen it, she couldn't help but feel annoyed by the unapologetic opulence and a bit resentful that the slab of wood was worth more than her family's entire fortune.

It wasn't long before a house-elf cracked open the door. Its milky green eyes widened at the sight of her. "I is sorry, Miss Wheezy, but Master is busy right now."

She rolled her eyes and barged past the startled elf. "It's a Saturday morning, Bibsy. Of course he's busy. Draco does love his morning shags."

Muscle memory guided her effortlessly through the polished wood-paneled corridors, the flustered house-elf at her heels.

"B-but Master says he must not be disturbed!"

"Oh don't mind me. I'll just be in the library, though could you bring me a cup of tea and a hangover cure?"

A few moments later, Ginny was comfortably ensconced in a plush, blue velvet armchair by the fire. She heaved a blissful sigh as the potion went to work, easing away her nail-on-skull headache like a cooling salve had been spread across her scalp.

A drowsy stupor seeped into her limbs with the last sip of her peppermint rose tea, but before sleep could claim her, an all too familiar drawling voice cut through the room. "You should know that when I said 'make yourself at home,' it was a onetime deal."

Though surprised to see him so soon, she sent a ready smirk towards the speaker and didn't deign to reply right away. Instead she spent the next few seconds shamelessly admiring the strip of his pale, toned chest visible between the unbuttoned flaps of his pajama top. It was still strange to think that only a few months ago, she wouldn't have looked twice at him or allowed herself to admit that he was a rather attractive bloke—physically speaking that was. Back then, drunk on foolish, childish notions of love and destiny, her mind and her heart had belonged to only one boy. Ginny shuddered at the thought and hurriedly put the memories it dredged up out of mind.

Shaking her head, she spoke with mocked admonishment, "Tsk, tsk, Draco. Wasn't it you who told me to interpret terms freely whenever possible so as to benefit myself? And as you failed to mention the stipulation at the time, I'm afraid your invitation still stands."

He chuckled and crossed the library's marble floor to her side with his usual graceful strides. Without another word, he bent down towards her, and immediately guessing his intentions, she slapped her palm to his mouth and pushed him back, crinkling her nose in distaste.

"Don't even think about it. I don't want to taste your Tart Flavor of the Week. Who knows where her mouth has been before she got to you."

To her amazement, instead of diving into his usual indignant and cajoling routine to get his way, Draco swore and immediately pulled out a wand from the pocket of his trousers. He cast a cleaning spell and a refreshing charm on his mouth in rapid succession before letting the wand drop to the floor.

"Any further objections?" He breathed the question into her ear with one knee pressed onto the seat between her legs. His slim, sinewy arms gripped the armrests, caging her in.

She'd always thought there must have been a bit of love potion magic mixed into his cologne. That was the only way she could explain why she found its spicy, smoky scent so enticing as to prompt her to lean into his warmth, almost involuntarily, every single time he got near.

Her nose pressed into the crook of his neck. She breathed deep and snickered, the sound partly muffled by his skin. "At least pick one with a better taste in perfume, Draco. You smell like teenage girl." In truth, the smell was but a shadowy hint of jasmine underneath his overpowering scent, but she never missed an opportunity to vex him, not when it provided her with such amusement.

"Enough already," he muttered a second before he dragged his lips across her cheek and kissed her full on the mouth.

Ginny sighed into the kiss. For all his flaws and failings—and there were plenty—being a bad kisser wasn't one of them. She'd kissed numerous men since her infamous breakup with England's Darling and Savior, but Draco remained staunchly top on her list of best wizards to snog. Not that she'd tell him and feed that already inflated ego of his, though he could probably tell anyway from the wanton noises she couldn't contain and the way she pressed back into him, wanting it just as much.

The first time they kissed was at the Snake's Den, a dimly lit club with a shady reputation. He'd snuck up behind her as she swayed and undulated with abandon on the dance floor. She felt him place his large warm hands on her hip and made a split-second decision based on his scent alone. _Merlin, he smells good,_ she remembered thinking. It was a nice change from the alcohol and cigarette smoke stench of her usual hookups. She relaxed into the curve of his body around her and allowed him to guide her through the familiar dance of seduction. Hands soon wandered and heads grew closer, turned, and sought out lips and tongues. When he finally spun her around to snog her properly, a flash from a strobe light revealed their identity to each other. He seemed as shocked as she was, but then she thought, _this is perfect. _She grinned at him, raising her chin in challenge, and after a beat, he quickly recovered and smirked right back. Their kisses after that had been vengeful, angry, and guilty—at least on her part. For weeks she'd been finding out that it felt so, so good, but at the same time so wrong being intimate with a stranger, but Draco Malfoy was more than that; he was the nemesis of her teenage years. The sense of wrongness had made her shiver along with his heated touch.

But now?

She sucked hard on his lower lip, and he made a sound half way between a growl and a moan. He paid her back by biting her upper lip before slanting his head and possessing her mouth completely.

The guilt now was practically nonexistent. The sense of wrongness all but faded. She enjoyed it shamelessly—the scrape of her nails against his muscled back, the hot, salty-sweet taste of his tongue sliding against hers, the sheer physical closeness of a fit male body. Best of all, there were no messy emotions getting in the way of blissful pleasure, no consequences to stress over. She didn't care about any of that now. Ginny Weasley had finally grown up. That little girl who dreamed of a fairytale wedding with her one true prince was gone. And good riddance.

"Alright there?" Draco had pulled back, his slightly swollen lips curving into a frown.

She pulled back from her thoughts and tried to recover her senses. "Yeah, why do you ask?"

He was staring at her in that intent way that she could never decode. "You had that look in your eye. Half a year since, and you're still thinking about that?"

She pushed him back, scowling. "It's not what you think, wise arse." _He _had _to go and ruin the mood._

Draco narrowed his eyes, and she knew he was about to launch them into another tiring, pointless conversation. Before he could do so, she schooled her features into one of amusement and quickly changed the subject. "You're awfully keen this morning. Was she that bad?"

He hesitated, obviously taking note of her diversionary attempt and likely debating whether to pursue the issue. "That's not—"

A piercing voice cut him off, screaming, "What do you think you're doing?"

Ginny stuck her head out to look past Draco's body still looming over her. In the library's doorway stood a curvaceous witch with massive bed hair, the tangled red locks blooming in a cloud around her petite face. Even without taking in her attire, a sheer, pale pink nightie, Ginny could easily guess who it was.

She sniggered. "You know, Draco, I'm beginning to think you have a thing for redheads."

He whipped his head around to see the witch in question and shot an annoyed look Ginny's way. "She isn't even a real one."

"That just proves my point."

His eyes flashed with irritation, but before he could return fire, another shriek of rage echoed through the room.

"H-how dare you. I have never been so insulted. Not only did you leave me high and dry, but you had the gall to-to—"

Ginny smirked up at Draco. "You don't usually go for the clingy type."

"I don't," he said, glaring down at her.

"Well then, your judgment must be getting faulty." She stuck her head back out to watch the fuming witch.

"I wonder whose fault is that."

She looked back at him with narrowed eyes. "You couldn't possibly be implying that—"

"Don't you ignore me!"

Draco's wince mirrored hers. The woman's volume rivaled a screaming mandrake.

She was advancing on them now, punctuating each of her words with an angry stab of her manicured finger. "And _you_. You brazen hussy. You—why you're..." Her eyes narrowed to slits and then widened, growing round as headlights.

Ginny rolled her eyes, already bored with what was to come.

"You're Ginny Weasley! So all those rumors were true! Have you no shame? Have you any idea of the scandal you're causing your family?"

"Yes, yes I do. You don't have to concern yourself. My entire family—that is Mum, Dad, five brothers, sister-in-laws, cousins, aunts, uncles—they all make sure to tell me about it in excruciating detail. Every. Single. Day." The end of her reply tapered into a gaping yawn. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, feeling the crash imminent after an entire night out.

Draco shot her a look that nearly resembled concern. "You haven't slept?"

"Obviously. It's a Saturday morning, Draco. If I did, do you think I would be here at 7 a.m.?"

For the briefest of seconds, his blank expression told her that he hadn't registered that fact. _Strange._ _Come to think of it. He's been acting rather differently today._

Before she could ask him about it, the bloody banshee had started up again. Ginny clapped her hands over her ears. "For Merlin's sake, get rid of her already before our ears bleed."

Draco called for Bibsy. After receiving his instructions, the house-elf disappeared and came back with a bundle of clothing and a wand before Apparating away with the furious witch.

They simultaneously sighed in relief, and Draco moved to perch on her chair's armrest.

"So what brings you then? Other than finding me utterly irresistible that is."

She snorted. "I'm not sorry at all to break it to you, but you don't even come close to being able to attract me away from my bed this early on a weekend morning." Ginny paused and glanced about the room as she continued in a light tone, "Anyway, I may have been kicked out of my house and possibly need a place to crash until I can find a flat."

When her eyes found his again, he was staring at her with open disbelief. "Your parents threw you out on your arse? I would have never thought they had it in them." He sounded rather impressed.

She shrugged. "I pretty much pushed them to desperation. Scolding and bribery didn't work, so they're finally trying out the tough-love act. Even my brothers are in on it. To be fair, I made it harder on myself, as usual."

He chuckled. "So they were going to give you time to move out and possibly help you get settled, but you said, 'Fuck it. If you want me gone, then I'm gone.'"

"Pretty much. You're getting pretty good at guessing what I would do."

"Honestly, it's not that hard." Before she could retort back, he continued, sounding just a tad resentful, "You have a lot of nerve. Do you realize you haven't seen me in a month? And now you've come here asking for a favor?"

Her brows shot up in surprise. "Did you want to see me? You could have owled."

He shifted and resettled himself on the armrest. "That was never necessary. We always seemed to be running into each other."

She laughed. "Aw, did you miss me?" At his scowl, she only laughed harder. "At ease, Draco. I know your cold little heart can't even comprehend such a mushy sentiment, much less feel it. We didn't have much luck running into each other this month, did we? It's probably because I've been forced to try new places and switch them up often to actually enjoy my night." Her amusement sharpened into a grimace. "The media's gotten pretty persistent. You would think I'd be of less interest to them now that I'm no longer dating Golden Boy, but if anything, I seem to have become more infamous."

"Of course you have. You're the Girl-Who-Broke-Saint-Potter's-Heart." An angry heat underwrote each word.

She sighed. Draco was one of only a handful of people who knew the whole story of how the breakup went down, and she suspected that, aside from Luna, he was probably the only other person who actually believed it. She'd told him the sordid tale one drunken night. It was the fifth or sixth time they'd met up, and after a particularly trying day, she'd been feeling desperate for an ally. If there was one person she could always count on to take her side against Harry, it was definitely Draco Malfoy.

"That's all in the past now, Draco. And thank goodness for that."

He opened his mouth and hovered for a moment but only snapped it shut again. For the next few seconds, he puckered his lips while in deep thought—a habit she'd taken note of and found rather endearing, which was not a word one often associated with a Malfoy. He seemed to have come to some decision unbeknownst to her, for he nodded to himself before returning the subject to her earlier request.

"So why me?" he asked in a careless tone that almost sounded bored. "You're certainly not lacking in number of blokes to shack up with."

She gave him a pointed look. "Where _is_ your brain today? You're usually so sharp on these things."

He scoffed. "Please. Of course I have my theories. I'm just waiting for you to prove me right."

"Now that's more like it. Ever the humble Malfoy." With a shrug, she proceeded to answer. "I figure you'd be the one I would inconvenience the least. It's not like you're cramped for space in this mansion of a flat, and it's large enough that you wouldn't even have to see my face if you didn't want to. More importantly, you're the most likely to not take my request the wrong way."

He raised an eyebrow. "The wrong way?"

"Yeah. Like the bloke I've been seeing for this past week. After three non-dates, he's convinced himself that he loves me." Her nose crinkled at the thought. "Your bad night was nothing compared to mine. Not only did the guy become an emotional wreck after I broke things off—gently, mind you—but I had to haul his drunk arse home so he wouldn't splinch himself, and this was after he'd already puked on me. Then I come home to an honest to goodness war tribunal hosted by my dear family. Though I guess I should've only been surprised that it didn't happen sooner."

"Well, I would tell you to make yourself at home, but you already did."

She blinked up at him. In honesty, she'd gone here with only half a plan in her head, still reeling from her parent's ultimatum that she'd firmly pushed aside to worry over later. For some reason or other, Draco had popped into her mind almost immediately, and the more she considered it, the more apparent it became that he was her best option. She didn't want to think about how she became so isolated in her world that the only person she could bear to see in her current state was someone who'd once been considered an enemy. And if there was one thing Ginny was good at, it was suppressing unwanted thoughts . She'd had a lot of practice after all. After the Chamber, it had become a necessary skill to maintain her sanity.

"So I can stay?"

"Yes, Ginny, you can stay, and you better remember this the next time you feel tempted to call me a selfish, unfeeling brat. I'm not even going to ask for any sort of compensation, but that's mostly because I know you'll give it to me anyway." He leveled a knowing smirk at her.

She punched him in the arm, hard enough to elicit a hiss of pain. "Cheeky bastard."

He clutched at the injured area, looking exaggeratedly aghast. "Is that any way to treat your benefactor?"

"Yes. Especially when he's being particularly indecent or just plain annoying. If you don't like it, then I could just find somewhere else to—"

"Ungrateful witch. Get up, and I'll show you to your room. Maybe you'll act more well-mannered when you're not so sleep deprived, but I'm not getting my hopes up."

He stood up, and she followed after, stretching with another gaping yawn.

"By the way, Draco. I should inform you that, having had one particularly bad experience, I make it a point never to sleep with housemates." She pressed her lips together to stifle the giggle at the outrage flashing through his eyes. Their subsequent journey through the corridors was relatively quiet, but she could tell from his calculating gaze that he was pondering what it would take for her to overlook her rule.

They finally stopped at a room she recognized as being across from his.

She grinned at him. "You sure about this, Draco? They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, while I'm almost certain that proximity will just drive us both insane if we don't kill each other first."

"I'm sure something else will distract us before that happens." If exhaustion hadn't filled her limbs with lead, his heated gaze would likely have had more of an effect, drawing her to him for a snog. Instead, she made a beeline for the glorious bed, plopping gracelessly face down onto its silken covers. She was hardly surprised to hear the rustle and feel the dip of the mattress as Draco lay down beside her.

Her eyes closed as if weighted with sand, but before she could fully drift into dreamland, Draco was speaking again. "Are you honestly fine with it?"

She didn't need to ask what he meant by 'it'. "Why wouldn't I be, and why do you care?" she mumbled into the sheets.

He didn't reply right away but eventually said, "Because you're under my roof. If anything happens I'll be on the next available boat to Azkaban before you can even say, 'fair trial.'"

She groaned. "If you want me gone, just say the word."

"That's not it. Don't put words in my mouth."

Somehow she found the energy to roll onto her back and looked over to catch his irritated gaze. "I'm fine, Draco. What do I care if they're cutting me off, or if they don't understand why I'm doing this? What do I care if they won't even miss me? I certainly won't miss them." Her throat caught on the lie, and no more words could get past. But no, her lips were most definitely not trembling from any emotion. It was just cold in this drafty manor passing as a flat. She was also definitely not crying. The dust from the unused room was making her eyes water, that's all.

Wordlessly, he scooted closer to her and folded her into his chest.

"What are you doing?" she asked warily against the hollow of his throat.

He said nothing and only continued to hold her, one hand moving to rub faint circles on her back. Seconds passed, and exhaustion gave the final push for her to relax against him. With the comforting presence of another warm body close by and the gentle motions across her back, sleep rapidly tugged at her. Her thoughts grew fuzzy as cotton, and a languor coated her senses. So when Draco muttered something into her hair, she couldn't be sure she heard him right, but it sounded like he said, "I would miss you."

If she had been more awake, those words would have rung alarm bells in her head. Instead, her last twinge of consciousness merely protested weakly before being submerged into sleep. When she woke, the words were only a half-memory that she was convinced she either imagined or heard wrong. After all, denial of an unpleasant truth had always been Ginny Weasley's forte.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Written for Lia's (chromeknickers') challenge at the DG forum for the prompt "Gossip" and for the Transfiguration School Subjects Competition on the HPFC forum. Feedback is always welcomed, especially as I'm considering expanding it further, I would love to hear what you thought of it. Thank you Pam (cherryredxx) for looking this over.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** The adult content of the M rating comes in a bit more this chapter as the nature of the story calls for scenes that go beyond strictly PG-13 fade-to-black but won't be straying into full blown NC-17 smut either (which technically ffnet doesn't allow), so if the latter is not your thing, I think you'll still be able to enjoy this story.

* * *

**- Chapter 2 -**

No other worries or troublesome memories occupied Ginny's mind as she stirred from sleep. Her groggy consciousness had banished them all—everything outside of the immediate present, which momentarily consisted of nothing more than what her waking senses took in.

Smell registered first, filling her mind with the heady scent of an intimately familiar cologne.

_Draco._

She relaxed at the recognition, feeling none of the disorientation that normally assaulted her upon waking up in a strange bed, no matter how common an occurrence that circumstance had become.

_Astounding, really, how comfortable I've grown around him._

For a moment longer, she kept her eyes closed and her mind carefully blank, wallowing in the temporary peace. She could feel the solid weight of Draco's limbs still draped around her, from his long, silk-pajama-clad legs scissored between her own to the arm welded around her waist, his hand still exerting a slight pressure on her back, even in sleep. His quiet, steady breathing was the only other sound filling her ears.

With reluctance, she opened her eyes. The smooth curve of Draco's pale neck greeted her sight, and the urge to snuggle closer and kiss his bare skin was near irresistible. Powerless as if before a Summoning Charm, her gaze was next drawn to his exposed chest, his pajama top having been discarded entirely. Curse him and his mighty fine physique. He was too attractive for _her_ own good, a far cry from the scrawny, pointed-face git of her early school years.

She'd once teasingly asked him about his newfound fitness as she languidly kissed her way down the contours of his firm stomach. "Fess up, Malfoy. How are you hiding your skinny arse self?"

She'd glanced up to catch his reaction and giggled when his hum of pleasure halted and he glared at her, brows knitted with impatience.

"I think there are far more interesting matters at the moment to concern yourself with, _Ginny_," he huffed.

She loved that she had that power over him, that his sheer physical need for her could subsume his usual need to be in control, to appear aloof and unconcerned.

She certainly hadn't been the bottom pick at Hogwarts, yet the fear of being unwanted had been nearly suffocating after..._never mind that now._ It didn't matter in the end. Whoever she wanted for the night, she got, while other witches and Muggle women looked on with envy and judgment she couldn't care less about...not anymore.

It was another sort of intoxication altogether to feel desirable and _know_ she was desired, all the more potent when the person in question had no end of reasons to find her repulsive. Maybe that was why she found herself drawn to Draco time and time again, aside from the assured promise of carnal pleasure at the end of an entertaining evening battling with his wit and snark. That and the fact that he could be trusted to keep a cool head about it. No need to worry about annoying emotional ties lashing at her.

Unbidden, the memory of their first proper shag drifted back to her. She'd jerked awake afterwards, her body a ball of tightly wound nerves. She'd never meant to fall asleep and certainly not for long enough to allow the sun to creep into the rented room, painting blooms of red across her clenched eyelids. Nervousness shot up and down her spine at the feeling of some line having been irreversibly crossed, but maybe if she left before he woke, it would be as if it had never happened. But when she cautiously moved to untangle herself from his limbs, he moved as well. She froze, heart pounding hard enough for her to feel the reverberations high in her throat, but he'd immediately grown still. With a quiet exhale of relief, she tried again; simultaneously, his body shifted. She stopped, and so did he.

Hesitatingly, she cracked open her eyes only to find him comically doing the same. Their mutual stare went on for a long, unceasing moment—flickering through emotions undecipherable even to themselves before his lips twitched and hers quivered, and they burst into spontaneous laughter. She didn't quite understand why but there was something hilarious and reassuring in the fact that they'd both been determined to make the first exit.

Draco recovered first and rolled leisurely on top of her while she attempted to muffle her lingering giggles against his neck.

"Tsk, tsk. You ought to know better, Weasley. Malfoys do the ditching. Never the other way around," he said in mock sternness. The rumble of his voice, deeper than usual from sleep, did something for her, all right. She tilted her head back on the mattress, matching his amused gaze with her own.

"So leave then. What's keeping you?" she asked, smirking as she slid her bare knee slowly upwards between them.

His breath hitched. Grey eyes brightened and pierced hers with unabashed lust, all traces of sleep gone in a flash. As she stared back, she'd been certain then that there was nothing to fear. They could have physical intimacy without any sordid emotional baggage attached. This was Draco _Malfoy, _after all. He would never demand or even want what she couldn't, wouldn't give. No expectations. No promises. No chances of anyone getting hurt. It would all be fine and good. _Very _good.

So when he gently bit down on her shoulder, Ginny had curled her fingers into his sleek hair and held him close as he slid into her. A sincere smile stole across her lips as she sighed and closed her eyes in bliss. This wasn't the frantic, furious coupling of the night before. It was slow and lingering, a savoring of the senses rather than a guilty binge. They moved together as if they had all the time in the world and no consequences to worry about. True, there was an exhilaration and glorious white-hot pleasure in indulging in passions born of fury and urgency, but this...this was equally satisfying in its own way. She had felt at peace in that moment, a feeling that came to her all too rarely back then and still even now.

_Heaven help me, I think I actually _missed_ the bastard._

Not that she'd thought much about him this past month. He usually only flashed through her mind when a particularly bad come-on made her wish he'd been present to crack her up with his snarky commentary. Then again, it didn't even feel like that long since she last saw him. Time moved rapid as waterfalls these days; mornings and nights flowed seamlessly into one another, indistinguishable from the next.

An exhaustion deeper than that borne of a sleepless night tugged her eyelids closed again.

_I'm tired of it all, to be honest._

Maybe this was exactly what she'd needed—a place where she could relax without being judged for what the hell she was doing with her life, a calming space and time to recoup her energy and clear her head in order to figure out what to do next. Her subconscious apparently knew her all too well to have suggested Malfoy's place.

Or maybe not. She opened her eyes and sighed at the man lying in front of her. Somehow she doubted he'd let her _rest_ much while she stayed under his roof. _Though speaking of which_...she turned in his embrace and felt Draco tighten his grip on her while still deep in sleep judging by his unchanging breathing pattern.

Ginny sniggered softly. She would've never pinned him for the type, but Draco had proved to be awfully fond of cuddling. Straining against his hold, she craned her neck to make out the clock on the mantel across from her side of the bed. One o'clock, read the dial.

Strange that he wasn't up yet. Draco was typically an early riser, the one to nuzzle her awake for another go before he had to leave or to leave her a cheeky goodbye note if he decided to be generous (as he proclaimed) and allowed her to sleep longer. And unlike her, this time, he certainly hadn't pulled an all-nighter.

With a frown, she squirmed up higher in the bed and shook his shoulder. "Draco?"

He mumbled groggily, and she shook him again. His eyelids fluttered open, grey eyes widening at the sight of her. "You're really here," he said, his sleep-laced voice no more than a whisper.

She arched a bemused eyebrow. "Obviously. What's the matter? Regretting it so soon?"

"As if," he scoffed with his customary scowl before rapidly switching to a smirk. "You're not getting off the hook that easily. What kind of a Malfoy would I be..." He leaned forward and hotly breathed the rest of the question into her ear. "...if I didn't collect on a debt? Hmm?" His hand slipped down to caress the back of her thighs, gradually inching up past the short skirt she still wore from last night.

Same old Draco as always. Bless his perverse heart.

"Draco," she replied sweetly, placing her hand over his advancing one to still its movement, "don't ever change." To his protest, she sat up fully, extracting his hand from under her skirt before stretching with a yawn.

He huffed beside her, agitation transparent in his features. "You know what shouldn't change either? Us. A bed. So why on earth are we not naked?"

She reached down to playfully pat his cheek, too easily amused by his deepening pout. "Housemate, remember?" She had no intention to enforce her rule in earnest, not with Draco, but having this hold over him was too glorious to give in so soon. No doubt he'd manage to convince her eventually, but in the moment, the need for a bath and food trumped all else. Her stomach declared its agreement with a resounding grumble.

With an exaggerated sigh, Draco sat up as well. "What do you want to eat? We'll have to get it from outside. Bibsy's a terrible cook, and Mother wanted Lindy for—" He paused and swore. At her questioning stare, he explained, "It slipped my mind. I'm supposed to have dinner with my parents tonight."

"Is it that torturous to eat with them?" _That's surprising._ She'd always been under the impression that he was close to his family. Not that she was one to talk. Mealtimes at the Burrow these days made her reach for her wand and a ready excuse. _And after last night, would they even—_

Draco's response thankfully interrupted her pointless thoughts. "No, that's not what I meant. It's just that—"Again he cut himself off.

_What was _up_ with him today?_ She touched his shoulder with mild concern. "Everything okay? First you sleep well into the afternoon, which I meant to ask you about by the way. And now you're stuttering."

"I don't stutter," he replied indignantly, and she had to quash the giggles threatening to burst out.

"And the sleeping in late?"

Abruptly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up to walk towards the en suite bathroom. A highly suspicious evasive maneuver, she noted, but appreciated all the same the pleasant view it presented of his backside—all toned muscle disappearing enticingly into the low slung trousers.

"I wasn't able to sleep last night either," he threw over his shoulder.

She laughed and got up to follow him. "Well, obviously. It's not like I don't know from personal experience, but you usually manage to wake up uncannily early anyway."

He immediately spun to face her, annoyance etched in frown lines across his forehead. "I wish," he muttered and then more forcefully, "but no, not _that_ kind of sleepless night. I know what it looked like this morning, but none of that went on yesterday."

She stopped in astonishment. "Wait, wait. So you're telling me that you, _Draco Malfoy_, had a willing woman in your bed and you _didn't_ have your wicked way with her?"

"Shocking, I know, but contrary to your mistaken assumptions I don't just—what are you doing?" he asked as she walked over to the nearest window.

"Checking to see if the sky is falling," she replied innocently.

Seconds later something solid though soft collided with her back. "Ow!" she yelped more out of surprise than actual pain and turned around to find the offending object, a fluffy white slipper, lying near her feet. Draco had disappeared into the bathroom.

She went in after him, chuckling. "Careful there. I think my 'crass violent tendencies' are starting to rub off on you, Mr. Superior-Self-Control."

He chucked an unopened toothbrush at her, which she caught with a Chaser's reflex, but otherwise ignored her. With a triumphant grin, she let the next few moments pass in wordless silence as they went through their morning routine. It wasn't the first time they'd done so simultaneously in the same bathroom, and by now, not a shred of awkwardness remained.

"Honestly, Ginny, I've seen all of you and more," he'd said back then with an eye roll at her insistence that he leave the bathroom. "Not to mention you suck at fake coyness." She'd paid him back by leaving him in the shower at the height of his arousal, for which he in turn dished out punishment. Though could one really call it punishment if she'd enjoyed it thoroughly?

_It still feels surreal in a way_, she thought as she opened her mouth to let the self-operating toothbrush go to work while Draco took a leak only a few feet away, _like we're some old married couple who are shamelessly comfortable around each other. _The thought replayed in her head. _Married with Draco. Hilarious. Now there's a sky-is-falling scenario for you._

As she perched on the edge of the enormous tub, waiting for it to fill with lavender-scented water, Draco leaned against the marble counters across from her and simply stared.

Knowing it was up to her to break the silence, Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was willing to speak up, anyway, still terribly curious as to what had kept him up last night. The same thing she expected that had him turn down the harpy from this morning, though the idea of Draco turning down sex remained inconceivable to her. _It had to be something big, but,_ she thought with a frown, _hopefully not_ _something particularly bad._

"Okay, fess up. What's eating at you? I know you likely think any advice I'd have to offer will be rubbish, but try me."

"I _don't_ think that. You really do assume the worst about me, don't you?"

_There goes that angry scowl again._

"And whose fault is that?" she replied. "But no, Draco, I don't think 'the worst' of you. You think I just let anyone get into my knickers?" _Shite._ She realized too late how perfectly she'd set herself up to be insulted, but he surprised her.

"No," he said with a hardness to his voice, "I know you don't."

How strange it was to hear it from him of all people. She couldn't say the same for the rest of Wizarding England or even her family. Most assumed that just because she no longer naively put sex and marriage on a pedestal meant that she'd lost all self-respect and was no more discriminating than a common whore. Not that she cared what they thought. No, she did not. And she proved it by continuing to do whatever the hell she felt like.

A heat entered Draco's gaze that she knew all too well.

"Don't be getting any ideas," she warned him and nearly laughed at the disappointment lining his face. "It's been a long, _long_ night, Draco," she offered by means of explanation.

His resigned sigh was long and suffering and no doubt exaggerated for her sake.

"You still didn't answer my question, by the way," she said as she turned off the tap and turned on another one for suds.

It was his turn to sound weary. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with. I just had a lot of things on my mind."

"What things? Work? Tiffs with the family?"

He shook his head.

She smirked and added, "Women trouble?"

One of his eyes twitched and in the next second, he reacted with theatrical offense. "Maybe it's _you_ that's not feeling so well to be suggesting such an absurd thing. Honestly. _Me?_ Having trouble with women? Don't be ridiculous."

She laughed, reaching to pull off her form-fitting top. When it cleared her head, she fully expected to find his appreciative eyes ogling her. He didn't disappoint, but he did surprise her when he turned to leave soon as she slipped into the tub.

"You're not joining me?" she asked, brows raised high in disbelief.

He glanced back over his shoulder. "Will I get to do anything?"

"No, not this time. I told you I was—"

He'd advanced back on the tub and leaned over to kiss her hard. When he pulled back, they were both more than a little breathless. "One, it's been too damn long. Two, you're bloody tempting, and you don't even know. Three, I don't think you have _any_ idea how torturous it'd be for me to sit here, seeing you all naked and soaped up and not be able to touch you like I want to."

Blunt and brazen, that had always been his way of letting her know how much he wanted her, and despite everything weighing on her mind, she came blade thin close to melting right then.

"But don't worry, Red, I have _every_ intention of collecting later," he finished with an unabashed once-over of her and a cheeky wink before leaving the bathroom for good.

There was an urgent quickness to his retreat that she took pride in and smiled smugly as she slinked down further into the magically padded tub. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the warmth of the water and its floral scent, settling into the temporary peace that she knew her reality would undoubtedly tear apart all too soon.

It was another thing Ginny Weasley excelled at these days—the ability to live in the here and now to the exclusion of all else. Through the well practiced will power of her mind, guilt and regrets of the past and worries for the future could not touch her, and if they couldn't touch her than they couldn't hurt her or weigh her down to the point where she might never get up again. Things were so much better that way.

* * *

**Author Notes:** Testing the waters with this one. Is the story still holding up with this second chapter and still leaves you wanting to read on? Feedback would be greatly appreciated on that point. There's always a risk with an attempt at a continuation that one ends up diminishing the original story, and in that case, I'd rather leave it as it was. However which way you feel, it'll be helpful for me to hear your thoughts on it, thanks!

Also a thank you to Anise for looking this over for me.


	3. Chapter 3

**- Chapter 3 -**

Ginny lingered in the self-warming bath water until her toes and fingers resembled pasty prunes. Even then, it took effort to haul herself out of the tub, knowing what and _whom_ she had to face again soon. Too bad she couldn't put it off, but she'd been in such a hurry to get away that morning that she'd brought nothing but her wand and the clothes she wore with only a few notes of Muggle money still tucked into the pockets. At the very least, she needed the key to her vault, and even then, she couldn't afford to just buy everything she needed either. There was no telling how long her savings would be needed to tie her over. In this, practicality had to win over pride, so she was forced to haul her arse home to pack up her things, but that didn't mean she had to bear it while grinning.

Ginny scowled and turned to yank the nearest towel off its golden hook. The plush, white cloth felt sinfully soft against her skin. _Merlin, what was this thing made of? Unicorn fur? Life was so unfair. _She contemplated pilfering it from Draco when this was all done and over. He likely owned a dozen others identical to it but probably would still be able to tell one was missing. He'd accuse her of theft, and she'd claim he owed her for having to put up with him. Inevitably, they'd end up on the bed or, knowing them, simply on the floor.

She chuckled as she toweled herself dry, her mood buoyed back up by the imagined but very probable scenario. _Yes, I _d_o think I will take this as a souvenir._

Her smile faltered at the sight of her discarded clothing. A Scourgify would normally suffice, but though the grime and sweat could be removed, the reminder of earlier that morning and her unpleasant night would remain. Her skin crawled with just the thought of putting them on again, so she balled them up and chucked them into the conveniently provided hamper.

As she'd come to expect, snooping through the room's large rosewood wardrobe yielded a handful of season-appropriate clothing. This time there were bright spring dresses, all with their hundred Galleon price tags still intact. It was another ridiculous indulgence of the rich she'd experienced firsthand since getting to know a Malfoy—a magical wardrobe service that teleported the latest fashion right into one's home.

Her first encounter with it had happened one snowy morning the previous winter. She'd opened Draco's wardrobe, intending to make do with one of his shirts, but instead it offered her an extensive selection of elaborate brocade dresses complete with matching fur-lined cloaks. Meanwhile, the blond watched her from his bed through half-lidded eyes, still recovering from the boneless state she'd left him in as payback for reducing her to a whimpering mess the previous night. However enjoyable it had been, it wouldn't do to let him think she wasn't his equal. Her pride, especially these days, would never let it be said that Ginny Weasley didn't give as good as she could take.

She'd glanced over her naked shoulder at him, smirking with the knowledge of the affecting image she made without a stitch on—all pale freckled skin and sex-tousled hair. Lesser wizards would have drooled, and not even a Malfoy with all the family enmity and bad history between them could resist. It was a delicious thought.

With a pointed look at her torn clothing lying nearly inside the fireplace that they'd arrived by, she told him teasingly, "If you could only learn patience, Draco, mornings wouldn't cost you a fortune in reparations every time. Think of all the poor orphans you could be housing and feeding for every broad you dress."

He smirked lazily back. "Laying all the blame on me? How Slytherin of you."

She had then turned to peruse the clothing selection but was unsurprised when his swift, silent strides brought him close in no time. A strong arm snaked around her middle, large warm hands sinking into her skin with his grip as their long fingers set to work, stroking distractingly over the bones of her hip.

"Maybe _you_ should think of the orphans before playing out your games. A wizard can only take so much. Push too far, and we can hardly be held accountable." His warm breath caressed her neck as he spoke, and a moment later, Ginny felt him shift his weight, rocking into her so as to remove all space between them. She nestled back with a grin until her back was flushed against his toned chest, still sticky with sweat from their earlier exertion.

His sigh ruffled the hair near her ear. "Merlin, witch, last night was..."

"Utterly brilliant," she agreed with a laugh. "Did you see the bloke's face when you whisked me away?"

"Like I said, you're an unbelievable tease."

She snickered. "And you _love_ it, don't deny it, though I'd advise you not to come back there for a while. There were more than a few murderous glares—" With a tweak of his wandering fingers and a nudge from his hips _just so_, she'd cut herself off with an incoherent noise.

Ginny bit her lip at the memory, sensing the familiar heat shooting through her center. Draco was a bloody good shag, she had to give him that.

There was an excitement with every new sexual encounter, but she'd soon learned that there was a trade-off between the rush that came with novelty and the heights that could only be reached with someone who knew her body so thoroughly, who had seemingly learned it by listening to her every soft moan and hitched breath as if with the single-minded purpose of deducing their secrets and origins. She'd noticed it with Draco as early as their third shag when anything akin to guilt or shame or nervousness had been tossed to the wayside, allowing her to pay attention for the sheer enjoyment of it.

There was an intensity to Draco in everything he did. Sex was no different. Even in the dark, she felt the force of his eyes taking her in. When their time together took the more indulgent path, she marveled at the way his kisses and roving hands seemed intent on meticulously mapping the whole of her instead of gunning straight for his own enjoyment.

And to think that she'd nearly settled, that she'd thought her first few fumbling attempts at sex was _it_—the culmination of everything to be fantasized about.

_Stop it. Why even think about it now? _But the ghostly tendrils of memories had already begun to creep from the mental box she could never quite manage to keep shut. Old sensations crawled back under her skin: An aching nervousness. Cheeks burning. Hesitant touches with all the wonder behind them. The pain and the awe of the first time forever branded, and no later experience, however superior, seemed able to scrub them clean.

That was the problem with firsts, all the worst if they'd meant something...

Ginny's lips pulled back in a grimace; the sleek, floral dress she had been fingering was crushed within her palms when she clenched her hands. A different kind of heat gathered behind her eyes, but she studiously ignored it. _You were lucky._ _Bloody lucky to have gotten out when you did. Don't you forget it. _

_But enough of that. _She sprung her attention back to the immediate task. In the end, her choice narrowed to a flirtatiously short frock with gold zippered accents on apple green silk—green, fittingly, for old rivalries and enmities that no longer mattered. Green for the jealousies that she refused to be plagued by any longer. And green for the fact that it was only a color now, not a reminder of anyone who mattered. Most definitely not.

Instead, she'd picked it knowing it would nicely play up her light complexion and copper hair. Plus, she smirked, winding Draco up in the process was always a bonus.

The ensemble was completed with matching undergarments and gold heeled sandals that materialized when she slipped the dress off its hanger. For the finishing touch, she dried and curled her hair with her wand until the stylized cut with side-swept bangs fell in perfect waves around her shoulders. Long gone was the boring straight mane she'd worn for years that made her look like a perpetual school girl. Numerous boys had told her they loved it, loved running their hands through it, and the sucker she'd been had bought it entirely. Back then she'd been reluctant to even trim her hair, but these days, she was done with doing anything solely at the behest of the male species. Thank Merlin. They'd like her as she is, or if not...well, one _had_ to question their tastes.

_Damn right._

Ginny spun before the mirror and nodded in satisfaction at her reflection before leaving to find Draco. She was starving but knew the blond would be miffed if she simply took off. With most people nowadays, she wouldn't care, but he deserved a bit of consideration from her, having at least earned that much. Besides, a peeved Draco was never much fun in her experience, though by now she thought she'd become a bit of an expert in getting him out of his intermittent moods. If all else failed, getting naked usually did the trick, if only to serve as a temporary distraction.

The first couple of times she'd put the tactic to use, the strain creasing Draco's face had melted away from the first kiss. The third time was far more involved and lingered long after in her mind. The memory was now several months old, but still, Ginny recalled it with all of its sharp edges. She supposed it helped that she'd been stone sober at the time.

It had been a few weeks after her initial encounter with Draco at the Snake's Den, and in London, the trees had just begun to put on their autumn coats. That night, not one drink had yet passed her lips when she spotted Draco at the Devilish Tavern, sitting at a shadowy corner table with a bottle of Ogden's and a black cloud hanging over him. Their chance meetings had stopped being a surprise by then as she'd realized they were attracted to the same sort of establishments—the ones of questionable ilk where no one gave a damn if you were a murderer or a saint. What _was_ unexpected was finding the blond so taciturn and distant, especially considering their last meeting had ended in a lazy, pleasant morning with him between her legs.

Unsatisfied with his one word answers, she'd hauled him out of his seat and signaled the tavern owner for a room key.

"You can't possibly expect this to work every time," he muttered as she dragged him up the creaking stairs to the rooms above.

She threw an impish smile over her shoulder while leading the way down the narrow second-floor corridor. "Well, what else am I supposed to do? If you won't talk to me, then there's _plenty _of other more satisfying options to occupy that frowning mouth."

But her cajoling jab only brought out more testiness from him.

"Why do you even care?"

"Why do _you_?" she launched right back. "You didn't have to let my drunk arse stay at your flat the other night and walking me there too since I was too sick to Apparate. Granted, you bitched and moaned the entire time, which didn't help at all with the brutal headache, by the way, but still."

"I was simply covering my bases, Weasley. You—"

"Ew. Are we back to that? Do you really want to be reminded of _my brother_ while you're shagging me?" She'd glanced at him then with a mischievous grin. "Or is there something you're not telling me, Draco?"

She squealed when he swatted her bottom in retaliation, but the bigger thrill had been catching the twitch at the corner of his mouth, though he'd immediately restrained it back under control.

"_As I was_ _saying_, just my luck running into you when you could barely even stand. If anything happened to you, guess who would've been on a one-way Portkey to Azkaban? Does my illustrious history not ring a bell?"

While he half-heartedly protested, she'd jiggled the stiff door lock open and dragged him into the musty room. A small fireplace on the opposite side flared to life. She tossed the room key onto the bedside table and immediately shimmied out of her miniskirt.

"Ginny, didn't you hear what I said?"

In response, she'd rolled her eyes and walked back over in her blue satin knickers to where he still stood, his back to the door. She could tell he was attempting not to look, grey eyes straining to stay on her face. She bit her lip to hold back a snicker while her hands snatched at his left arm, yanking up the sleeves of his robe and underlying shirt before he realized her intentions. "You mean this thing?"

Draco immediately tugged his arm back, but she held on tight with both hands and bent over to kiss the faint outline of the skull and snake. When lips met skin, he froze.

When she released her grip and glanced up, his mask had slipped. He no longer looked so emotionless as stunned.

She grinned. "You know, I've always had a thing for tattoos. Been meaning to get one myself. Know of any non-psychotic-megalomaniac artists to recommend?"

His eyes narrowed, and several seconds ticked by before he spoke. "I would've thought given your involvement that you would hardly be the person to joke about something like this."

She shrugged and trailed her gaze down to her blouse, busying her fingers with the buttons. "If we don't joke, we drown, Draco. Simple as that."

When he didn't answer after a while, she looked back up. He'd crossed his arms and was staring off to one side towards the lone window of pitch black sky.

At that moment, the same questions he'd asked of her flashed through her mind. _What are you doing here? Why are you bothering with this? With him?_

But the counter-question had been immediately obvious: _Do I even need a reason?_ It wasn't like anything she did back then or even now made much sense to anyone, including herself. Fretting over things and analyzing them to death had never brought her anything but pain. So why would her outlook be any different when it came to Draco Malfoy?

Maybe that night she'd bothered because she didn't want to owe him for the other nights. Maybe it was the goody-two shoes ingrained into her since birth, rendering her incapable of being indifferent even to an enemy's plight. Maybe it was simply because he was a brilliant shag, and she'd wanted more of it. Who the hell cared? Certainly, not her. And already back then, she had long since decided that hers was the only opinion that ought to matter.

So though the old Ginny would've likely stormed off in an annoyed, frustrated huff and left Draco alone, she had stepped up to him instead, fingers reaching to unfasten his robe. "I wasn't so drunk either of the times we shagged that I forgot or didn't realize you were Draco bleeding Malfoy. Why is today any different?"

His answer was deathly quiet. "It isn't, but it is." He still didn't look at her, yet he didn't do anything to stop her advancing fingers either.

She uncrossed his arms to let her push the heavy black robes off his shoulders. It pooled at his feet, followed shortly by a silver tie and a crisp white button-down. With his naked chest bared to her, she planted her hands on his pecs and ran her palms slowly upwards, along his shoulders, and down his arms.

He stared at her then with the slightest catch of his breath but still not a word. She reached his left forearm and held it once again while her other hand stroked over the pale markings. His muscles tensed under her touch, but he didn't pull away.

"Do you know what I see, Draco?" she'd asked, so softly the crackling of the fire nearly drowned out her voice.

"Do tell," he muttered finally in the bitterest of tones, looking away again, but she didn't think the acrimony was directed at her.

The words that followed had felt like they came out of their own accord from somewhere deep inside. "I see...a mistake," she replied as her eyes and fingers traced over the faint outlines of his Mark. "A mistake and a regret. A choice that you didn't fully understand nor fully controlled but aren't entirely blameless for either."

She paused after for the protest that never came. Instead, he returned her gaze evenly. "You speak as if—"

"Me too." It was her turn to look away. "My Mark just doesn't have a physical form for everyone to see." The admission had been unplanned. She'd regretted it instantly and wanted to stuff it right back into the forgotten crevices of her mind, but it was unexpected how fitting it felt to make such a confession to Draco.

He started to speak, his tone distinctly softened, but she whipped her head back to face him and cut him off before he got two words out. "Don't you dare tell me it's different when you haven't a clue. I have more than enough people vouching for me, and it doesn't help one bit. If anything, it makes the guilt worse. So don't."

"I know. And I wasn't going to."

"Good. I'm certain that you don't want my pity. And I don't want yours either. The past is the past, Draco. Time to fucking live in the present."

They stared at each other in silence, and then for the first time that evening, his lips quirked upwards freely. "That's your motto these days, isn't it? My _irreplaceable_ dragon hide boots from the other night are never going to be the same again."

She relaxed, sensing the heavy air between them clearing up, and raised an eyebrow in mock defiance. "I _know_. You were complaining about them being destroyed by vomit for a good three-quarters of the way home. I think you only stopped when I told you to shut up before I jammed them up your arse."

"Yes, that was rather charming of you. Ungrateful, wench."

"And I believe my response was, 'Fuck you.'"

His responding chuckle was the first bit of laughter from him all evening. "No, actually you said, 'Fuck me'—to a _lamppost _and nearly snogged it."

"And you pissed yourself laughing for a good while instead of helping me up after I ran into said lamppost. Thought I forgot, did you? Why am I supposed to be grateful again?"

"Because I could've left you drowning in misery and your own puke?"

"But you admit you only did it to save yourself, so no brownie points for you."

"What a shame. I do live for imaginary points that can never be redeemed."

"Not the way I play it. The Prewett ancient secret brownie recipe is the stuff of legends."

He half-smiled and finally let his eyes flicker down her body and back. When their gaze met again, his grey irises flashed with a tell-tale heat that shot straight for her center.

"Is that so?" he drawled. "Then perhaps I can still earn some points for _this_." At last he moved of his own volition, setting his hands on her shoulders and slipping off her unbuttoned blouse in a slow, deliberate motion while leaning in and slanting his mouth hotly on hers. If she had to describe his kiss at that moment in one word, it would've been _hungry_.

_Merlin, I need to stop thinking about Draco and sex. _Ginny hastily cut off her reminiscing before the rather delectable, sinful memories could get her entirely worked up. She'd had a handful of lovers since her last encounter with Draco over a month ago, and really, only one particular three-some experience with a Spaniard and an Italian Muggle could be said to rival the intensity that her sessions with Draco had been reaching as of late. It almost got to be too much sometimes. He'd become a decadence she only wanted to sample every now and then as it would be a shame if she ever got bored with him. Or on the flipside, it wouldn't do to get addicted either. She'd been there on both ends and didn't care for a repeat. Any relations that ended in an imbalance were never much fun, to say the least.

Voices drifted down the hallways as she wandered in search of Draco after he hadn't responded when she knocked on his room. She paused for a moment, listening intently, but relaxed with a grin when she heard the familiar, gleeful tone of Blaise Zabini. His voice, all suave and silk, carried well down the hall as she sped towards the main study.

"Admit it, I'm an amazing wingman. You should be bowing and kissing at my feet and writing me into the Malfoy will, or offering me a partnership, that works too."

Draco's reply was predictably snappish. "Remind me to never listen to you again."

"Oh come off it. Since when have you been _busy_ when I checked in at noon? About time you got out of that nearly month-long slump for Merlin knows why. On the behalf of your employees, please never go without a regular shag ever again. You've been unbearable these past few weeks, and _that_ is coming from your best mate. Also, you _so_ do have a thing for redheads. I believe someone now owes me 50 Galleons."

Before Draco had a chance for his repartee, she stepped into the room and found him newly dressed in a dark grey button-down, sitting behind his enormous mahogany desk. Before him laid neat stacks of countless folders and parchments. He started slightly at the sight of her but instantly smoothed back into his usual cool, nonchalance self.

Blaise's six feet of tall, dark, and handsome stood to the left, leaning against the sideboard. His dark blue eyes lit up when she entered. "Oh ho, ho, ho. Now I get it." He sent a knowing smirk Draco's way.

"Since when did you start channeling old St. Claus?" she asked with an amused quirk of her eyebrow.

"Please, love," Blaise said as he waved a hand down the length of his body, "the old, tubby wizard has never been _this_ debonair, which you would know thoroughly if you ever cared to sample." A roguish wink accompanied his words.

She cracked a smile back. "You can't say I didn't offer. It's not my fault you turned out to be all talk."

"Blaise Zabini? Really, Ginny?" Draco asked in his customary drawl, but she thought she caught the flash of irritation in his eyes. It had always been hilarious to her how fragile male egos could be.

"And why not, Draco?" she asked with a gleeful grin. "Objectively, you have to admit he's quite a fit bloke. And for the act in question, personality is rather a moot point."

"See, mate? Unlike you, most other people are quite _appreciative_ of me." Blaise exchanged a conspiratorial glance with her, and she could barely hold back her laughter at the sight of Draco's control beginning to slip, brows furrowed in irritation.

"You do know it wasn't because you were lacking by any means, right?" Blaise said to her with a cheeky once-over of her body.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh please, like that was ever in doubt. Despite your rakish reputation, you're quite considerate in some ways."

"Don't mistake me, love. It was all still done with selfish intentions, I assure you. It wouldn't do to have Draco's ego crushed upon being compared to me. He might die from the mortification and then I'd be out of an overly-paid, under-worked job. Those are quite hard to come by in this day and age, you understand."

"Do keep going, Blaise," Draco retorted. "You're doing a fine job of talking yourself out of a job, and then this _conundrum_ of yours will no longer matter."

"I would've taken you up on the threesome offer too," Blaise stage-whispered to her, earning another needled glare from Draco, "but we both know Draco hates to share. He'd hog you the whole time, and I wouldn't get to so much as stare. Wouldn't be much fun at all for me."

"Isn't it about time you got going, Blaise?" Draco snapped. "Does a client meeting at two ring a bell? Contrary to your mistaken belief, you're not being paid to do nothing."

Blaise returned Draco's glower with a meaningful smile before leaning in to kiss her goodbye on the cheek. "Shag him well for me, Ginny. His employees will thank you."

Just before stepping through the fireplace, Blaise called out one last time to Draco. "And heed my advice, mate. The waiting and watching tactic has _never_ worked out well for you. It'll be too late before you know it." With a last wink at her, six feet of tall, dark, and impeccably-dressed wizard disappeared through the crackling green flames.

Ginny chuckled in his wake. As always, Blaise could be counted on to be entertaining. She'd gotten to know him through his association with Draco and had been surprised to find out that his contemptuous demeanor during their school days had been a veneer carefully cultivated and greatly exaggerated.

He had told her as much one night, months ago, after a substantial amount of alcohol had been involved. "I'm a survivalist, love, and with a mother like mine, you quickly learn to be as changeable as any shape-shifter. And here's a tip for you: if it ever came down to your life or mine, never ever trust me."

At the time, she was sitting across from him in a booth, drunkenly nestled against Draco's side, who was quite heavily inebriated himself. Many other personal tidbits and secrets were confessed between the three of them that night, she assumed, though much of it was forgotten by the time their horrific hangovers came to an end.

Presently, a frown continued to mar Draco's brow. She stepped closer and playfully smoothed it out with her fingers. "Careful, your face might freeze like that, and then you'll be looking like your old man before you even reach thirty."

Draco sighed with clear exasperation but the frown lines disappeared as he pulled her hands from his face. He stood and rounding the desk, assumed his favored position of towering over her, lean arms planted on the table top at her sides, caging her in. His newly-bathed scent spiked with fresh cologne wrapped around her like a spring breeze, and she hummed in appreciation.

With a glance up and down, he added casually, "You look nice. Dressing up for someone?" Annoyance had faded away in his tone, replaced by a cajoling, teasing lightness.

She feigned outrage, one hand coming up to clutch at imaginary pearls. "_Only_ nice? You do know how to flatter a witch, Mr. Malfoy."

It was all too easy how she fell back into their now familiar routine of good-natured ribbing and flirting. At least there would be a few hours of pleasantness left to look forward to, stolen hours to bolster her for the undoubtedly ugly, unavoidable confrontations ahead.

Ginny had to take whatever she got these days—one step at a time as if life was a tightrope to be tread. She couldn't look back or too far ahead at how far she had to go or her courage might just fail her. And all it would take was one tremble, one tremble and it was a long, long way down.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

Thank you very much for all your responses last chapter. You have definitely encouraged me to keep going, so I hope I can keep it up as I attempt to expand this story to its full conclusion. And please do still chime in with your comments periodically. Feedback is soul food for writers – it gets those creative juices going and helps keep the crippling writer's doubt at bay. Whether you liked the chapter or thought it wasn't quite up to stuff or if you have any other comments, I'd love to hear from you.

As with all my other multi-chapters, I do have the plot outlined all the way to the conclusion for this story, so I know where I want this to go and also the back story to be revealed. I've plunked you down in the middle at the start so some chapters will be fleshing out the past and others focused more on the present, but hopefully both will be able to keep your interest.

Thank you to Anise for the beta-reading. I added a little more than the draft I'd sent her, so some awkward phrasing and SpaG errors might not have been caught. Feel free to let me know if you catch any. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**- Chapter 4 -**

All too willingly, Ginny allowed herself to be distracted from her thoughts by the amusement glinting silver in Draco's eyes. A half-smile played about his lips as he leaned in, head slanted towards hers. Her body drew forward instinctively, no conscious thought required. It still mystified her—this raw magnetism he had about him ever since their renewed acquaintance post-war; mere looks and the shedding of her own blinders seemed inadequate to explain it.

His mouth hovered over hers, milliseconds from touching when her stomach protested loudly. Ginny laughed, the movement brushing her lips against his, and the warm breath from his suffering sigh tickled her skin. When he didn't move, she chided him with a playful slap at his chest and ducked under the cage of his arms, headed for the study's doors.

"Let's go," she called back to him. "I've found this new place that has _the_ best—"

"Absolutely not," he said, his long strides bringing him up beside her in seconds.

She glanced up at him as they traveled through the maze-like corridors, eyes wide to declare her innocence. "You don't even know what I was going to say. It could have been perfectly acceptable."

He didn't deign to reply, only one pale brow lifted to express his sarcastic skepticism, prompting her to snort with laughter.

"Okay, fine, but come on, Draco. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"It's where neither of us ends up puking for an hour straight, or has your selective memory blocked that out too? I swore then that it'd the last time I ever listened to you."

She grinned. "And who did you make that bet with? Blaise? Let me know because I rightfully deserve a cut of his earnings."

"Ha. Keep trying, but your distraction tactics won't work. I'll pay, so _I'm_ picking this time." They'd reached the foyer, and he paused at a side-closet to slip on a dark blue blazer.

Ginny had stepped forward to open the door, but her hand froze on the crystal knob, a frown creasing her brows. Parasite-like, the suspicion wormed its way into her mind. She spun to face him, all semblance of a smile wiped clean. "I don't want any mistaken assumptions, Draco. Just to be clear, I'm here because I know my temporary use of the house is of no cost to you. Makes it a convenient option for me, nothing more. I'm _not_ here to be a charity case or a pathetic leech. I can take care of myself."

The soft swish of green silk against her skin suddenly became unbearable as the coarsest wool. Her use of the dress technically did cost him nothing; the wardrobe service was paid for regardless with a ridiculous large complimentary balance renewed each month that the Malfoys had no danger of ever depleting. Still, if it gave him the wrong impression, she'd take her dirty clothes in an instant.

Fleetingly, she noted a tightening around his jaw, but it disappeared with the smooth drawl of his voice. Both pale eyebrows raised, clearly unimpressed with her. "I'd highly recommend putting away your Gryffindor-tinted glasses before you get all pissy. No wonder your lot seems to have a perpetual stick up their arse. You see pity; I see self-preservation. Over my dead body are we repeating the carnival night catastrophe and your brilliant idea of trying _Muggle street food_."

At his sneer of disgust, her own tension dissolved from her with an exhaled breath. Inwardly, Ginny scolded herself for getting worked up over a pittance. She'd let people's words get to her after all. _Damn it. _

"You had a wicked time anyway, admit it." She hoped her teasing tone was apology enough for unnecessarily snapping at him. He truly was her best option at the moment. No debt to rack up. No irritating judgment to wrangle with. Just Draco being himself, and that, astoundingly, was something she'd found she'd rather deal with any hour of the day compared to the alternatives.

"And you would be such a _reliable_ judge of that night," he drawled. "Yet here I recall a mandrake-level shriek in my ear the morning after from someone so blitzed, she was convinced she got _married _to me the night before."

Heat flamed at Ginny's cheeks. Few mornings had ever ranked higher in the mortification factor, enough for her to swear off drinking to oblivion...though the resolution lasted only about a month.

She elbowed his side in retaliation, secretly relieved that they were back in their usual tit for tat routine. "I thought we agreed that that never happened!"

"Ouch, witch." He clutched at the impact point, doubled over no doubt in exaggeration. "Merlin, you're violent. I didn't sign up for this. You ought to come with a disclaimer."

She moved to jab him again, but he restrained her, his arms coming around her in a vise, squeezing her back against his chest. He laughed, the notes of it light and breezy, while she struggled in vain before giving up, slumping her head back against his shoulder to glare at him even as she felt her lips tilt helplessly upwards.

"All right, in seriousness, I probably shouldn't have started you out with street food, but you _have_ to try this place out...please? Muggle, yes, but it's a proper restaurant and everything."

He shook his head resolutely in the negative before letting her go. "Not a chance. Go on your own if you want it so badly, though Merlin knows why. It's not like wizards can't offer something comparable."

She shot him a pitying look that she knew would annoy him. "You poor, deprived soul, and you don't even know. It's not the same at _all_. Come with me and be enlightened. Besides, it's boring to eat on my own—robs me of the chance to mock you for my amusement."

"Oh please. Admit it. You crave and miss my witty insights." His smug tone didn't reach his eyes. Instead, they seemed to rove over her face in a searching manner.

She rolled her eyes at the obvious bait. How many times did she need to reassure him? He had nothing to worry about in _that _regard.

Her response came easily, airy and teasing. "Fine, I admit that I do miss your company, so come with me."

A pensive shadow flickered across his face, but she didn't give him a chance to say no. In seconds, she'd _Accio'ed_ for her remaining Muggle money and pulled him through the door. A couple more ticks of the clock and she'd linked her arm through his, Apparating them away into Muggle London.

She was prepared for more fight from him, but Draco only silently fell in step beside her, grey eyes warily scanning the Muggle crowd milling around them once they'd emerged from the Shielded alley.

It struck her how surreal the moment was. She and a Malfoy, walking down a Muggle street together in broad daylight and in tolerable enough amicability, all traces of true hostility good and gone—who would've ever thought? If someone had proposed the scenario to her even half a year ago, she would've laughed in their face and told them there was a better chance of teaching trolls to dance.

She didn't like to dwell on the thought though. It brought to mind too sharply the painful lesson that had brought her to this point: Nothing in life was certain, most of all people.

But lulled by the white noise of the crowd and the warm sunlight on her skin, her mind slipped without resistance, like fish into the reservoir of her memories back to the first night when she finally bothered to questioned how the hell she got involved with a Malfoy.

She and Draco had been sitting at a bar side-by-side, sipping their third or fourth round of drinks. It was a quieter, more low-key joint that night. Assumingly, both of them had been too drained by earlier events in the day to have energy for the rowdier crowds.

"What changed, Mal—Draco?" she had asked him abruptly, his first name at the time still a foreign taste on her tongue.

"What do you mean?" he countered, and she felt the intensity of his gaze turned to her while she swirled the drink in her glass, eyes focused on the blood red of the cocktail.

She paused to mull over the answer for herself. When the reply came, she spared nothing, her words blunt as a broom's end. With anyone else, she might have held back or lie, but this was Draco. She had no need for pretense or to sugarcoat. "For one thing, you're not nearly the nasty, pathetic git you used to be."

"Why thank you," he bit out dryly. "You're quite the improvement yourself, but we all know why. _That's_ no mystery."

She ignored him, continuing on as if he hadn't spoken. "I mean you're still infuriating and vexing certainly, but you're...not truly malicious, not really." But then again, it occurred to her that he'd never been truly hostile to her. All his rage and hate had been reserved for Harry and to a less extent, his close friends. She hadn't come close.

He chuckled in response. It was a low and throaty sound, warm and intimate amidst the clinking of glass and soft murmurs of the other patrons. Even now, the memory of the it sent a tingling through her spine.

"Careful, Weasley," he said, "can't have people thinking I've gone soft. My ulterior motives are still very much intact I assure you. I don't give something for nothing."

She'd glanced at him then, and he flashed her a lewd smirk, his hand crossing the sliver of space between their knees to trail fingers lightly up her bare thigh. They paused at the bottom edge of her short red dress, catching the fabric to rub between thumb and forefinger.

She smacked his hand away, lips curled in an arch smile. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He shrugged and reached for his drink. "Are you the same person you were at Hogwarts?"

"Good Godric, no." She raised her glass for a mouthful and slammed it back down on the bar top in emphasis.

"Well, there you go," he said before emptying his tumbler and signaling the bartender for another.

_Isn't that the truth_, she'd thought to herself. The world wasn't static and neither were people. Strange how easy it was to forget that reality.

"Cheers to that," she'd said, clinking her glass with Draco's once he'd received his new drink. Indeed, cheers to the fact that she was no longer that pathetic, naive little girl. Cheers to the fact that Draco was now so much more than the smarmy, malicious git that bullied her brother and friends. If not for that reality, they wouldn't have been sitting there together in relatively agreeable company, and she wouldn't have found a most unlikely ally.

Ginny knew that if all that had changed about Draco was newly-acquired muscles and a better hairstyle, she would've never repeated their initial encounter. The first could've been chalked up to hormones and the heat of the moment, but the physical excuses were already wearing thin by the third time—when they'd spent the whole night in drunken banter without so much as a snogging session.

"How do you really hate something you don't even know?" he had admitted bitterly to her that night when the alcohol began kicking in enough for words to slur together. "All along I thought I was being trained for something great, only to realize what a perfect puppet they've molded out of me." He'd broken into hysterical, delirious laughter then, but she was too inebriated at the time to properly make fun of him for it.

Strange. It was really strange when she thought about it—how she and Draco had managed to find an unexpected kindred spirit in the other. In a world where everyone else seemed optimistic and determined to move on, they'd both hung suspended, not knowing how to cope with the fact that all they'd ever known had been turned on its head. Not just people and things had been lost, but entire dreams had been snuffed out, the future they'd been looking forward to blown out like a candle, all in an instant.

Old Dumbledore had been fond of the saying, "It is our choices that show what we really are." But the more she hung out with Malfoy and the remnants of his Slytherin class, the more she'd begun to wonder to what extent _really_ were they free to make their choices. How much choice was even there to begin with if the type of people they were had already been shaped by forces out of their control?

It was on one of those philosophical nights drunk on beer and liquor that she found herself questioning what kind of person she would've been if she'd been born into a family like the Malfoys and Malfoy into hers. In what ways would their respective moral compasses have lined up instead? She'd learned all too piercingly how quickly people could cast her aside the moment that what she thought was 'right' no longer aligned with their worldview.

But these were not thoughts she wanted to linger on, letting their weight and gravity drag her down when the rest of the world teemed around her in a vibrant hustle. She pulled back from her thoughts to watch Draco instead as they made their way down the busy street, arms still linked so as not to lose each other in the throng.

Draco's sharp eyes never stopped scanning the crowd, the tense set of his shoulders belying his impassive face, hinting at his discomfort, but there was no true enmity there. Not anymore, and as she'd come to realize, for Draco, there likely had never been anything beyond a shadow imitation of such hatred to begin with—certainly nothing on the levels of the other Death Eaters who had thirsted for death and torture. Draco had lived far too sheltered a life for such a brand of hatred to have taken deep root, and when the reappearance of Voldemort had shattered that privileged bubble spectacularly, fear had run the show.

Not that many would believe it. Even more would be shocked to learn that she hadn't been the instigator of Draco's Muggle ventures. With war wounds still raw and hurting, a bitter Wizarding community had already pushed him to Muggle pubs long before she'd stumbled across him post-war. These outings were rare though, reserved for the worst of nights, and even then, he'd kept his interactions with Muggles to a brusque minimum.

_"If you think they're so inferior to us, then why are you afraid of them?"_ she'd taunted him. Through similar jabs and at times the help of a few Firewhiskey shots in his system, she had since then successfully goaded him into branching out in the Muggle world a few times over.

_Just like now. Though if Blaise was here, he would've called it the result of Draco being thoroughly whipped._ Ginny couldn't help her snickering.

Without looking at her, Draco asked with a sigh, "Do I even want to know what's so funny?"

"You, basically," she admitted gleefully. "I can just guess the thoughts running through your mind."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Never bet against me. Haven't you learned that by now?"

The faintest of pinks suffused his cheeks to her delight, but before she could bring up past incidents, he cut her off. "Don't even _think_ about it. Keep in mind I have just as much blackmail on you."

She snorted but let it slide. "Fine, but aren't you curious about what I'm thinking that you're thinking?"

"Not at all."

She pinched his arm for being no fun. "Then it's a good thing that I don't need your permission, do I?"

"By all means, go on. You are so riveting after all."

She jostled him to the side for his sarcasm. He'd been prepared and barely stumbled, but her movement careened her into a large, rotund man. The Muggle staggered back with a swear and upon recovering, his black mustache quivered and mean blue eyes bored into her, no doubt prepping for a tirade. Draco immediately stepped up and placed his arm around her, gripping her shoulder. At close to six feet, he towered over the Muggle, his voice a steel blade as he uttered, "Is there a problem?"

Ginny bit her lip to hold in laughter as the Muggle wilted before her eyes. She knew Draco could manage to look quite intimidating these days. Maturity had brought him height and broad shoulders, and a dedication to fitness post-Hogwarts had filled the rest of him out. He remained slender overall, but his lean muscles now radiated a palpable strength she felt through the hand secured on her shoulder. Add to that the cutting mannerisms picked up from his parents and hardened in the war's aftermath, and this was no longer the little boy who was nothing without his goons and his father's backing.

_I forget sometimes. _Her gaze flickered over to take in her companion's austere profile. The angles of his face seemed even sharper in the intensity of his attentions on the Muggle.

Before Ginny even thought to defuse the situation, the thin, blond woman beside the Muggle man tugged insistently at his arm. "Forget it, Vernon. Let's go," the woman hissed, and they pulled away down the street.

A beat passed before Ginny clasped her hands to her heart and batted her eyelashes at Draco. "Aw, my knight in shining armor. Careful, I think your closet-Gryffindor is showing."

He smirked right back. "_You_ would see it that way. Mind your rose-tinted glasses, will you? This wizard doesn't go saving damsels for free, or Merlin forbid, for the _nobleness _of it."

She laughed at how he spat the word out like it was a vomit-flavored bean, but in a more serious tone, told him firmly, "I'll allow it so long as it amuses me too, but don't go making a habit of it now. I can—"

"—take care of yourself. _I know._ Salazar, you're really hung up on that, aren't you?"

"Who wouldn't?" she grumbled, pulling away to set them moving again. "Try being the baby girl of a family of six older brothers. Practically suffocated me to death. Add in...whatever, you already know."

He slipped his arm across her back, settling his hand on the curve of her hip and squeezing her there. She tensed up and shot him a warning glare.

"Merlin, _relax_, Ginny. I, for one, solemnly promise to never lock you up in an ivory tower for your own good. That's hardly any fun."

"Hah. Like I'd ever give you the chance to."

Draco turned his gaze forward, focusing on some unknown point down the street. "Merlin knows, we've been in one too many bar fights," he muttered, voice edged with annoyance. "Have I ever once played the noble brat and told you to get out of there and go hide at home?"

As often happened around Draco these days, she couldn't help the upward tug of her lips. "No, quite the opposite. I do believe you've threatened me on several occasions with retribution should I leave you to clean up my messes." She sighed. "Sorry, I knew that. I'm just letting nonsense things get to me again."

His eyes found hers once more, the irises a cool and calculating shade of grey. "I have to say, seems like people aren't even allowed to care for you. A little extreme stance to take, don't you think? You _do_ know caring doesn't have to equal coddling?"

"Why Draco, are you implying that you do care?" She smiled impishly and relished in the irritation that skittered across his face.

"No more than you do," he challenged. A typical Draco answer, but she wouldn't have him any other way.

"Thing is they don't ever just _care_, Draco. There's always something expected of you in return, and if you fail to fulfill it, they throw all that 'caring' back in your face to guilt-trip and shame you. No bloody thank you. I like that I at least know exactly where I stand with you. You're completely upfront about what you want from me, and I know I can say no with impunity."

"So you have a thing for unabashed devils, is that it?"

_Do I?_ She glanced him over. If the worst of a person was laid bare from the start, there was no pretense to the business. He could never turn on her. She'd know to never let him in where he would have that power in the first place.

"Perhaps." She smirked. "Is that how you see yourself? But really, thank the Fates that you're in no danger of turning into a paragon of virtue. I've had enough of my share of so-called knights and princes." She pantomimed gagging and immediately resolved to put the issue out of mind, letting herself relax, though she shot Draco a pointed look to remove the hand from her hip.

That particular physical contact didn't mean anything coming from him, she knew. How could it when they were of nothing consequential to each other? But she had long hated the feel of it—that she was some smaller, lesser thing to be shielded, secured in that arm circled around her. The only arms wrapping around her that she wanted was in the context of mutual pleasures.

Unsurprisingly, he ignored her dagger looks and welded her even tighter to his side. She huffed but let it slide, knowing he did it only to be contrary. She was too hungry anyway to have the energy to play-fight about it in the middle of a crowded pavement. With his next words at least, she was glad that he too had decided to let their prior subject drop.

"So where is this shop of horrors you intend for us? Or, even better, we could make the _sensible_ choice and detour to the best Wizarding French food to be found in all of London."

She turned her face towards him, putting on a show of considering the option and wavering, watching the hope rise in his eyes before crushing it with a decisive smirk."Not a chance, Draco."

She giggled at the aggravated roll of his eyes. With walls lowered through familiarity, he was becoming too easy. _This_ between them was all too easy now, unbelievably so.

As she led them up a side-street, the buildings' long shadows falling across her back and cutting off the sun's warmth, a colder thought trickled in.

_Easy._ _But when have things ever been _easy _for you, Ginny Weasley? Are you forgetting yourself?_

An involuntary tremble shot through her—memories knocking against their locked doors. Draco's hold tightened, pulling her closer.

"Cold?" he asked.

She didn't correct him. It was infinitely preferable to the far too messy truth.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

Ack. I've been waffling over this chapter for ages. On the one hand there were key aspects about their relationship and about themselves that I wanted to take the time to show you. On the other hand, I worry that it was too quiet and introspective a chapter as to bore you. Whichever way it fell for you or something in between, I'd really appreciate to hear your thoughts on it. Thanks for reading! Summer's here, so you'll get updates a little quicker as I finally have more free time to write.

And thank you, Anise, for looking this over.


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